Hard, Red, Rectangles And A Sledge Hammer

It's only now that I realize the walls of my world are made out of bricks, because they meet the description I found on Wikipedia. And as they fall they don't dance like leafs in the fall. No. They fall like any other rock, but what's really lucky is they leave little (by little I mean unforgettable) scars as they scrape your arms on the flight to the ground.

I tried to tell you, that I was unsure of the whole thing. But you didn't have time and I was too teary eyed and choked up to explain my thoughts, but you didn't care I'm sure. So when the day comes when I am on my own and choose a different path, please save me your disapproval and remember the time I asked you questions and you didn't have the answer, and neither did he, or she or anyone.... Not because the question was not thoughtful, more because I knew that you and every last one of these robots don't care to ask why, or wonder the other things there are to learn from other people.

How can you say that you are right because of a feeling? That's ludicrous, think about what you're saying. I know this is true because the butterfly's in my stomach said so. I get it . I really do. Love is for adults but this whole thing we can know for sure at the age of eight. I forgot how logical all of this is. Sorry for second guessing it.

I think i'm going to leave and find my answers on my own with people who wonder what I wonder, and think the way I think. And I hope you find a hallmark card that says 'happy damnation!' or 'Congrats you made it!' In bright red letters, because I'm obviously going to hell for wanting to find the truth, to really know the truth for myself. Sorry I can't take your word for it.

God doesn't damn the wonderers. If he dose then by all means, I hope I get a spot next to the fire.

Remember the walls falling? I thought bricks were sturdy, what could be making them fly. And that's when I realize, I'm swinging a sledge hammer at everything I used to love.

I hate it here.

Yours,

Peter Van Houten